I am sorry for the time it has taken me to post this chapter but real life demands my time and attention.
Thanks to the many well wishers who take the time to email. And thanks to my dear friend Tang for being there when I need time out.
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Anger and hurt war for control as I storm from the quarters, slamming the screen door behind me. Their mingled scents and the tantalising smell of Rosy's arousal burn into my brain making my stomach churn.
Had there been signs I had missed? It had been Malcolm who had been quick to follow her, not his brother Chris. Nor had Rosy been teasing or tempting any of the toms that I had seen.
But when Malcolm, Timny, Chris and Rosy had returned Chris had been holding her hand. The slight breeze from the window had blown their scents straight to me. My inner cat had screeched his disbelief, and I had fled the room before I lost my head and handed over control to him.
I head for the shed where all the weights and gym equipment are kept. I know in some small corner of my mind that pounding Chris to a bloody pulp is not an option. Every primal feline instinct screams at me to eradicate the male competition but I grit my teeth and keep walking. I need to slam my fists into something, need to vent my fury and hurt.
I don't bother turning on the interior light or opening both lots of large doors to let in the sunlight. I head straight to the largest punching bag and deliver a flurry of blows that has the heavy bag swinging. I grunt as I tuck my chin into my chest and roll my shoulders before delivering two sharp left jabs, then a hard right.
The right makes the bag swing wildly and buck in mid air. And it hurt my fist. I ignore the slight metallic squeak as more light begins to fill the shed. I don't look to see who has joined me. Instead I slam more hard hits into the leathery bag.
"You going to slaughter that bag single-handedly or do you want some help?" Steven asks as he appears on the opposite side of the punching bag. He takes hold of it and steadies it, making it offer more resistance to my blows.
"Pounding Chris into an unrecognisable bloody pulp isn't an option is it," I say tightly. Even as the words leave my mouth, I feel foolish. I know it's not Chris' fault; it's not even Rosy's fault that they have become involved.
"I wouldn't object if you pounded on Edwin some. I'm sure he has done something to deserve a hiding," Steven offers.
Even though the idea appeals to me, I know I can't dish out discipline just because I am upset Rosy became involved with another tom.
"Chris is ... too easy going ... for Rosy. She'll end up ... walking all ... over him ... in no time," I say between blows to the punching bag.
"Don't know for sure, I didn't take more than one good sniff -- but I don't think Chris mounted her," Steven says quietly.
I hesitate, missing a blow in the rhythm I had settled into, and the bag hits me in the chest making me step backwards as it swings towards me again. I glance towards
Steven slightly startled; I hadn't thought to smell for any such evidence. Just the tell-tale mingled scents and the sweet smell of female arousal had been enough to send me from the building struggling for control.
"She wasn't objecting to you flirting with her when Malcolm was treating her feet," Steven points out and I suppress a smile as I remember how fiery Rosy had been.
"She acted more like any young she-kitt just discovering toms are more than just there for protecting them," Steven points out.
"The way she's quick to lash out and the fact Edwin says she had a real go at Malcolm while they were travelling concerns me," I admit as I step back from the punching bag.
"She's pretty nervous and I am sure she has every escape route mapped out in her head for whichever room she is in. She did get drugged and locked in a cage last time she was here," Steven reminds me quietly.
"When I've cooled my temper off, I'll have to have a talk with her. Tell Rosy that we won't force her to stay if she wants to leave. And I think I'll have a chat about her not shifting, or being in cat form near Jazzy or Donny. She's too unpredictable," I say with a heavy sigh.
I don't know how Rosy will react to my laying down of some basic rules, but I'm sure it is best if I make it clear what we expect from the start.
"How about we hit the benches for a complete workout," Steven asks and I realise I have been silent for several minutes.
"Actually I fancy a patrol of the bushland around the cattle paddock. Make sure no feral dogs or dingos have been around," I say even though I know the chance of another form of predator so close to our home compound is highly unlikely.
"Sounds like a good way to kill a few hours," Steven agrees.
"We can keep an eye open for any signs of kangaroos coming in to feed on the greener grass as well," I tell him.
"Feeling like going up against a big buck kangaroo?" Steven asks with a grin.
"Not really but it might be a way of working out some of the extra energy," I mutter as I take out my phone and text a message to Wade, Edwin and Timny to let them know where we will be if we are needed.
Steven has stripped off by the time I am finished and I glance his way before pulling my shirt off over my head.
Does Rosy prefer his dark good looks? I've over heard several of the she-kitts and young Queens commenting on his dark, almost Spanish features, calling him hot and
sexy. His own sister has often teased him telling him several of her friends 'simply drooled' over his 'sexy bedroom eyes.'
I find myself mentally comparing my large frame to his. Steven is tall at 6'4" but I am another 6 and a half inches taller. He has the typical broad shouldered, muscular build of a mature tom. My own shoulders are even wider and more solidly muscled, making me turn slightly sideways to fit through most normal doorways.
I suddenly start to feel clumsy and over sized, even beside my best friend. I force the thoughts from my mind and give myself over to my transformation. Once in cat form I know my feelings of being vastly different from my friends and family will fade away to nothing.
I will be Micah, chief defender of the Williamson clan. My size and formidable strength often dissuaded troublemakers. What was once my handicap is now the biggest asset in keeping my clan safe.
When both Steven and I have shifted to cat form, we leave the shed and head for the tree line. The day is warm but we trot along until we reach the dappled shade of the trees. We spend the next few hours patrolling and checking for anything that might prove a danger to Jazzy, Rosy or Donovan.
It is getting close to dusk when we return to the shed and shift back to human form. I pull my jeans and joggers on, not bothering with my shirt before starting to close up the shed. I notice Steven doesn't bother with his shirt either as I push the large doors closed and secure the chain that holds them closed.
"I hope they have a feed cooked," Steven says as we head for the quarters.
"With Rosy to look after they better have," I agree.
The smell of cooked meat greets us as we walk into the quarters; I pause in the lounge room doorway and glance in. Malcolm is massaging ointment into Rosy's feet while she lays sprawled out on the lounge. I catch her watching me in the reflection from the window where the sky has darkened outside. I smile wryly at how alert she is even among us.
"Food is ready to eat," Mikkarl says from the kitchen.
"We'll be there in a minute," Steven says, and I hear him move away from behind me. He must have been checking up on the situation with Rosy as well.
I head for the bathroom and have to wait my turn to wash-up before heading back to the kitchen. I can't help noticing how Rosy stands well back as everyone helps themselves to the food. It reminds me of how Toby had been careful not to get too near either Steven or myself when we had been eating.
I catch Rosy eyeing Steven's chest and shoulders. She keeps her head lowered slightly and darts glances from the corner of her eyes. I smile to myself as I realise she is
either developing or already has a healthy interest in looking at toms. Maybe given time, she will recover from all that has happened to her in the past.
I step into the clear space in front of the roast meat and spear the thick, crunchy end slice of roast. The faintest of sounds reaches me and I glance towards Rosy. She is watching the slice of meat and I realise she prefers the crispy piece as well. I cut it in half and put the larger half back on the plate of sliced meat. Edwin immediately reaches for it and I grab his wrist in a hard grip.
"That is Rosy's. Touch it and you answer to me," I say as I stare at him hard.
Edwin scowls but says nothing as I finally release his wrist; he reaches for another piece of meat before moving into the lounge room.
"Rosy, if you want that slice of meat you need to come and take it," I tell her quietly. She meets my gaze uncertainly for a few moments before giving a brief nod. She moves forward and begins helping herself to food. With Robby, Mikkarl and Edwin in the lounge room she is bolder around the food but still careful to keep back from the rest of us.
When she moves to the lounge room I watch the way she turns her shoulder and hunches it slightly as Chris sits next to her. She is still guarding her food but not to the extent she used to. I continue to glance her way every few minutes trying to gauge her behaviour as I eat. I see when her eyes darken with interest and her lips open slightly. The tip of her tongue darts out to moisten her bottom lip as her pupils enlarge; I feel my body tighten in response and I am startled when she lifts her gaze to meet mine.
Rosy looks away hurriedly but not before I see the warm glow rising in her face. She glances back at me then looks away hurriedly once again. I feel satisfaction and pleasure fill me as I realise Rosy had been checking me out as she had with Steven earlier. Suddenly my own doubts and insecurities over my size seem insignificant. Rosy clearly liked what she saw and that is enough for me.
